A Potterverse Christmas Carol
by Melindaleo
Summary: DONE Petunia Dursley's well-ordered Christmas plans are interrupted by the arrival of three very familiar ghostly intruders. Intruders who claim she needs their help. Will Petunia be able to put her loathing of the magical world aside to save her family.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter One**

**Holiday Plans**

Mrs. Petunia Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, pursed her thin lips as she stared at the plaid ribbon adorning the wreath of holly and pine she'd hung from her impeccable white front door. The thin silver pair of shears she clutched in her right hand opened and closed as she glared at the uncooperative bow.

Petunia cast a critical eye at the ribbon. She had cut it several times in an effort to get it to hang exactly even, and now the ends appeared too short. She was certain the salesman who'd sold her the wreath had gypped her when cutting the length of ribbon in the first place.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see the perfectly trimmed bow on the door of number six fluttering in the chilly breeze. She squinted slightly to get a better look and was certain that her neighbor had bought a ribbon trimmed with gold thread this year just to outdo her.

Pulling the wreath from the door, she went back inside, planning on returning the entire wreath and giving that smarmy salesman a piece of her mind. She'd have to find a bigger, more elaborate bow from another shop.

Casting an apprising eye around her spotless sitting room, she sighed with satisfaction over the Christmas decorations she'd hung. _Tasteful and not overdone_, she thought approvingly. Her Diddy-dinkums was due home from Smeltings the next day, and she wanted everything to be perfect for her darling boy.

They'd been forced to be away last Christmas because of that _nonsense_, and she wanted a greeting-card holiday this year to erase all those unpleasant memories. For a brief moment, her mind wandered back to that farewell with her nephew over a year ago before she firmly squashed it from her mind. No need to be thinking about _him_ at Christmastime.

Christmas was for joyous family gatherings.

Petunia twisted her lips, a shadow crossing her eyes for the briefest of moments, before tossing her nose in the air and continuing the inspection of her home. Dudley had been so kind and wonderful that day they'd been forced to flee their home. Such a gracious young man! She'd been so proud.

Of course, perhaps something _abnormal_ had been done to her Dudley while they'd been shut in that abhorrent hideaway. He had brought up his cousin, and what they supposed might be happening to him, an inordinate number of times – as if he'd actually _cared_.

Petunia shook herself again. No. Dudley was fine. They hadn't had a word from that _other one_ since they'd been released from their safe house. They'd been told that…that…that _he_ had been successful and that the evil one had been vanquished. Of course, _he'd_ never once bothered to come check on them, had he? After all they'd done for him? He couldn't be bothered to check on their wellbeing.

The fact that she'd informed that Jones woman that he was by no means allowed to ever set foot in her house again was inconsequential. Ungrateful brat.

Petunia scrubbed furiously at the kitchen counters, her indignation swelling as it always did when her thoughts turned to her nephew and the way her family had been burdened with his care. They'd given him food and shelter for sixteen years, without recompense or the slightest bit of thanks. No, Petunia was glad to be rid of him.

Her conscience twinged slightly as the image of her sister's red pigtails fluttered through her mind before she could firmly squash it out. She hadn't wanted or needed a sister, and she certainly shouldn't have been expected to care for that sister's offspring after her own carelessness had cost her her life. Petunia was always left to clean up Lily's messes. She'd given the boy more than anyone should have expected of her. She'd had her own son to care for, after all.

Craning her neck to be sure Vernon hadn't yet returned from work, Petunia took a small nip of the sherry she'd tucked way in the back of her spotless refrigerator. Just a nip to help calm her nerves. It was the holidays.

As she prepared the evening meal, her thoughts continued to hover where they frequently did – on her beloved Diddy.

He'd been a bit…odd since they'd returned from the safe house, but at least he hadn't brought up his cousin again. He'd returned to school for his final year this past September, and Petunia had been anxiously counting the days until he'd return again for the holidays.

She'd been shocked and appalled when she'd received his letter asking to spend part of the Christmas holidays away – with a girl! Of course, Petunia had denied his request and told him in no uncertain terms that he was expected home for Christmas. She'd never had the need to be stern with her son before, so she was certain the tone of her letter must have taken him back. She was certain this _girl_ must be a bad influence.

Still, he'd said he'd be home for Christmas as usual.

Petunia didn't know who this _Deidre_ was, but she was certain she wasn't good enough for Diddy. She suspected the girl would probably prove to be some nasty little gold digger who wanted to attach herself to an up-and-coming young professional like Dudley. Already she was trying to gain control by telling him where to spend the holidays – trying to get him to spend the time with _her_ family instead of his own.

Well, Deidre was in for quite a shock if she thought Petunia would allow just any girl to sink her claws into her son. Petunia was on to her little games.

Realizing her hands were shaking with suppressed anger, she poured another glass of sherry and shoved her casserole into the oven.

She couldn't help but wonder when Dudley had met Deidre and why she hadn't heard about this girl before. Certainly he couldn't have been seeing her for very long or Petunia would know about it, and if he hadn't known her for very long, why did he want to spend part of his holiday with her?

Petunia continued to worry the details in her mind. She hadn't seen her boy in months and didn't like the idea of sharing him with some strange girl who couldn't possibly comprehend how special her Dudley was.

Hearing the front door open, Petunia quickly downed the last of her sherry, rinsed her glass and left it in the sink as she hurried to greet Vernon.

She scurried into the hall, kissing him on the cheek as he put his briefcase in its proper place next to the door. His suit was rumpled and stretched just a bit too tight across his middle. She'd have to go out and purchase him some new ones. A year's worth of sitting around in hiding with little to occupy their time hadn't done much for their health, Petunia thought sourly.

"Afternoon, Petunia. What's for dinner?" Vernon asked, his jowls quivering slightly when he spoke.

"I've a casserole in the oven. It's almost ready. How was your day?" she asked, taking his coat and hanging it in the wardrobe.

"I think I've got a big order coming in. Should arrive any day now," Vernon said, puffing his chest. He moved into the sitting room and sat in his customary chair to unfold the evening paper. The chair groaned as his weight sank into it.

Petunia pursed her lips. Vernon hadn't really had a big order since they'd returned from hiding. He seemed to have trouble getting back into the swing of things, but he got very tetchy if Petunia commented on it, so she chose to let it go for now. She didn't have the energy to worry about anything else but Dudley at the moment.

They shared their meal in silence, watching the evening news on the television in the kitchen, the one she'd bought for Dudley several years ago. When Dudley was away, she and Vernon didn't find much need for conversation. Petunia liked to think it was because they knew each other well enough not to need words.

As they settled down to bed that night, after pecking one another on the cheek, Petunia's mind was filled with disturbing thoughts of Dudley bringing that Deidre home to meet them. She shuddered as she rolled over to turn out the light.

She wasn't certain how much later it was, but she didn't feel as if she'd slept very long when the sound of shattering glass filled her room. Her heart pounded as she sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the bed covers close to her chest. The room was filled with an eerie glow, and Petunia was certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. Vernon's snores continued as she furiously wiped at her eyes, refusing to believe what she saw.

Trembling, she slowly pulled her hands from her eyes, opening them to stare at the ghostly image of her long-dead sister.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter Two**

**The Ghost of Christmas Past**

Petunia's heart hammered in her chest, and a scream lodged within her throat, forcing all the air from her lungs as she stared at her sister. Her neat, well-ordered mind refused to accept the apparition before her. This was a dream – a vivid, horrible nightmare, actually. But that insidious little voice in her head – so remarkably like her sister's childhood voice – kept hinting that Petunia knew what was real. She'd always known, despite her furious, nearly manic, insistence otherwise.

Petunia scrubbed at her eyes again, willing the image to disappear. Vernon remained asleep, blissfully unaware of their unexpected and unwanted midnight caller. Petunia felt an unreasonable wave of anger toward him.

Lily stood quietly in the center of the room, her long white gown billowing around her in a breeze Petunia couldn't feel. Her hair, those long, glorious red tendrils that used to make Petunia seethe with envy, whipped around her head and shoulders as she silently stared. An ethereal light surrounded her, sending a shiver down Petunia's spine.

It suddenly struck Petunia that Lily looked exactly as Petunia remembered – frozen in eternal youth. She'd never aged or had to watch her once-attractive features sag and wrinkle. Petunia scowled – how typical for Lily! And her eyes… her eyes were that same electric green that Petunia sometimes saw in her nightmares. They stared at her now with a mixture of sadness and fury that made Petunia tremble. Those same soulful eyes that she'd been forced to see for years in Lily's son – eyes that caused her to remember things she'd sooner forget.

Petunia gaped, mutely opening and closing her mouth, unable to find the words. She, the master of a biting diatribe, was rendered speechless. Petunia's lifelong resentment of Lily rose to the surface, calming Petunia somehow with its familiarity.

"Hello, Tuney," Lily said, speaking for the first time. Her calm, clear voice echoed strangely against the stark, white walls.

Shaking her head furiously, Petunia still tried to deny what she saw. "I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming."

"You're not," Lily said simply, in that forthright way she'd always had and Petunia had always despised.

"You can't be here. You're _dead_," Petunia snapped, hissing the last word through clenched teeth as if the subject were taboo. Petunia felt an hysterical burst of laughter rise within her. She'd raised Lily's son to believe any mention of his parents or their deaths would be met with harsh punishment.

"Of course I am – that's why I'm allowed to be here," Lily said, the musical lilt of her laughter again reminding Petunia of years gone by.

Her heart twisted as memories that had been suppressed for years filled her mind. "I don't understand," she whispered, searching vainly for an escape route.

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past, Petunia," Lily said, her bright green eyes dulling. "You shall receive three ghostly visitors before this night is through."

"Christmas Past. Three visitors. I don't understand. What do you want? Why now?" Petunia cried, her anger growing again. All these years Lily'd been gone, and now…now she came back. Why?

"I'm here to do something you never managed – I'm here to help my sister's son," Lily said, her hands clenching by her sides as her voice hardened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Petunia said stiffly, a cold bead of dread running down her spine.

"No, I'm certain you don't," Lily replied, her eyes brimming with immense sadness. She stretched out her long, elegant arm. "Take my hand, Tuney. We've a lot to do this night."

Petunia snatched her hands away and shoved them beneath the blankets. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I want you to leave my home. Leave me and my family alone. We have nothing to do with each other anymore."

"You're wrong, Petunia. We'll always be connected through our sons. It's your child who is in trouble now. Come with me, and I'll show you," Lily replied, again stretching out her hand.

"What's wrong with my Diddy?" Petunia asked, frightened. She slowly removed her hands from the covers, her instinct and desire to protect Dudley at all costs overriding her own fear. Then, a gnawing suspicion born of years of mistrust struck her with the force of a sledgehammer. "Are you really trying to help him or was it you who did something to him?"

Lily's eyes flashed and the dim light from the streetlamp below made them appear to glow with feral intensity. "I would never hurt your child, Petunia. I wish you could say the same. I'm here to do something you utterly failed to do for my son. I'm here to try and help you protect your child."

Petunia's eyes dropped to the bedcovers, shame flooding her veins. She'd never loved Lily's son. He'd reminded her too much of the past to ever let it go. Her shame quickly gave way to righteous indignation. Who was Lily to scold her for her treatment of the child she never should have had to raise? Lily's own carelessness had made her son an orphan in the first place.

Before she could open her mouth to voice her fury, Lily reached over and grasped her sister's hand.

"Let's visit the past, shall we?" she asked coldly before the bedroom disappeared around them, replaced by myriad lights and colors that circled Petunia at a dizzying speed.

*****

It took a moment for Petunia to steady herself on her feet, and when she finally opened her eyes, she wanted to shut them again. She stood in her own family sitting room, only the old furniture and wallpaper were still there. The pictures on the wall all showed Dudley as a very young age, and the entire room – although unmistakably hers – was just, somehow, wrong.

Before she had time to think about it or pose so much as a single question, a shriek from the stairs startled her. She turned to see a blond bundle of energy bounding down the stairs, shaking the entire structure with his exuberance.

"Diddy," she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She thought her heart might burst at the sight of him and had to blink tears from her eyes. He couldn't have been more than four or five. He pushed at his fringe as he leaped the last two stairs, a fiercely determined expression crossing his features as he made a beeline toward the enormous stack of presents beneath the tree. In fact, the tree looked dwarfed by the number of packages surrounding it.

"He looks nice and warm," Lily commented dully.

Dudley wore white pajamas with little red Father Christmas pictures scattered over them. The attached feet were threadbare, and she could see one round, chubby toe peeking out on the left side. The pajamas looked as if they were getting just a wee bit too small for her Diddydums – he was such a healthy boy! The zipper was stretched taut across his round little belly, and it was pulling in several spots. Petunia remembered how she'd always adored those particular pajamas. She'd even saved them in her trunk upstairs – the trunk where she'd saved all of Dudley's special things.

Petunia turned toward her sister, beaming, and noticed that Lily was no longer looking at Dudley, who was opening package after package without really looking at any of them. Petunia followed Lily's gaze to the corner of the room where a small boy with a mop of black hair and broken glasses was peeking from behind a potted plant.

Her nephew wore that same, aloof expression he often had, only this time, she somehow saw it differently. It looked more wistful than defiant, and were his eyes glistening? He wore thin, threadbare summer pajamas, and he kept shifting one bare foot on top of the other as if trying to keep one warm at a time whilst standing on the cold, wooden floor.

Petunia guiltily glanced at Lily's face. She supposed she should have made certain he was dressed appropriately, but she'd probably got caught up in the excitement of Christmas Eve.

"It wasn't just a one time occurrence," Lily said as if reading Petunia's mind.

"We always provided the necessities," Petunia said stiffly, resenting the implication.

"Yes, you gave him some of Dudley's things," Lily said, still staring at her shivering son.

"He never took good care of his possessions," Petunia snapped. "I was always scolding him for rips and tears and dirt on all his clothing. Dudley never did that."

"That's because you handed it down to Harry as soon as it frayed," Lily said, her eyes flashing. "He's four, Petunia. Warm pajamas for a four-year-old doesn't seem too much to ask."

"Dudders! Did you start already? I thought you were going to wait for us," Vernon's voice boomed as he hurried down the stairs. Petunia looked up to see a younger version of herself securing the belt around her house coat and following Vernon into the room, beaming at her son.

"Oh, Diddy, Father Christmas knows you're such good boy," her younger self cried.

"Where are the Transformers? I told him I wanted all the new Transformers," Dudley cried, scowling.

Vernon ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I'm certain Saint Nick did his best. It seems the elves didn't make enough for all the boys and girls who wanted them this year. But, look, you did get two of the new ones. See here."

Dudley kicked the shiny new toys. "I wanted _all_ of them. You need all of them to make the bigger robot."

Petunia smiled fondly. "Always enterprising. That's my Dudley."

"Always spoiled, you mean," Lily responded, raising one eyebrow.

Petunia's indignation rose. "He's not spoiled. He's just the way we wanted him."

"You, boy!" Vernon snarled, catching a glimpse of Harry behind the plant. "What are you doing sneaking around back there? Go on and start the breakfast. Don't think you can get by with laziness just because it's Christmas."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry mumbled, lowering his head as he dragged his feet toward the kitchen.

Petunia had never noticed the dejected slump of his shoulders in the past, and she shifted uncomfortably. She didn't know what Lily had done to her but was certain she didn't like it. Why did she suddenly feel so badly for her nephew?

Dudley tore through several more packages while a young Vernon and Petunia exchanged their own gifts before Harry returned to the room.

"Breakfast is ready," he said listlessly, not raising his eyes from the floor.

"About time, I'm starving," Vernon replied. "You'd better not have burned the bacon. Ready for some brekky, Dudders?"

"Isn't there any more?" Dudley asked plaintively, his bulging eyes looking around at all the opened packages.

"I'm certain Aunt Marge will send you one still," Vernon replied. "Pick up all this mess, boy," Vernon snapped at Harry's down turned head before he led Dudley toward the kitchen where the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs awaited.

A young Petunia followed them without a backward glance at her nephew, but the present-day Petunia stayed with Lily who watched her son with mournful eyes. Petunia longed to follow her own family into the kitchen, but her feet refused to cooperate.

Harry dejectedly moved around the room, stuffing bits of paper and ribbon into a large trash bag. His baggy pajama bottoms kept slipping off his slender waist, forcing him to hoist them up every few seconds. Each time he did, Petunia caught an uncomfortable glimpse of his bony spine and hips.

Petunia had to admit, he did a remarkably good job of getting all the scrap pieces of colorful paper that littered the room. When he was finished, he cast a cautious glance at the kitchen door before sinking to his knees and picking up one of Dudley's discarded robots.

His eyes opened wider with wonder, and he clicked pieces into place, experimentally changing the arms and legs as the figure transformed into some sort of car. So lost was he in his fascination, he didn't hear the door open or Dudley's heavy footsteps entering the room.

"That's mine!" Dudley shouted, pulling the toy from his cousin's hands. "You broke it!"

"I didn't break it," Harry said, his little eyes rolling. "It's supposed to do that. Transformer means it changes."

Dudley threw the toy on the ground with such force that one of the arms broke off. "Don't you touch my things," he said, advancing toward the smaller boy.

Harry shifted backwards, his eyes automatically seeking an escape route as they'd done many times in the past. Too late, he realized his back was against the wall. Dudley reached out and grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, pulling him to his feet. Harry's eyes watered as he struggled to release Dudley's grip, but he didn't call out.

"What's going on in here?" the young version of Petunia asked, her eyes widening at the scene.

"Mummy! He broke my new toys – look," Dudley said, crocodile tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He hadn't let go of Harry's hair, and the smaller boy was on his tip-toes trying to ease the pulling. He whimpered slightly before clamping his teeth together.

This was such a common scene between the two boys. Her nephew always tormented Dudley and broke his new things.

But…hadn't she just seen that Harry hadn't actually broken the toy at all. In fact…it had been Dudley who'd broken it. Of course, that's probably why Lily had shown her this memory. Lily had likely altered the events herself to make her son look better than he was. That would by a typical thing for Lily to do.

"You wretched little vandal," a young Petunia hissed. "You were supposed to be cleaning up this room. Look at those scraps. Thought you'd be lazy and get away with it, did you?"

Petunia turned in the direction her younger self was pointing, noticing one stray bit of paper peeping out from under the couch. She started guiltily. Hadn't she just thought what a good job the boy had done for a child so young?

"I didn't," Harry gasped, tears now streaming from his eyes as Dudley continued to pull his hair.

"To your cupboard," Petunia snapped, pointing in the direction of the cupboard under the stairs. "I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. There'll be no breakfast for you."

Dudley let go and shoved the boy, causing him to stumble. A young Petunia turned her back as if she hadn't seen it.

Present-day Petunia reluctantly raised her eyes to meet her sister's blazing green ones. "Did you really hate me so much, Petunia?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion. "Did it make you feel better to take your anger out on a child who had nowhere else to turn? Would it have killed you to give him a single toy of his own on Christmas?"

"You left no money behind for us to raise him. We took him in and bore the burden alone," Petunia said, indignantly raising her chin.

Lily remained silent, her eyes scanning the room littered with toys and trinkets. Her silent accusation rankled Petunia more than any words could have.

"I would not deprive my son of anything in favor of yours. Isn't that what Daddy always did? He was just so delighted to have a witch in the family. Dudley was the special one here," Petunia said, seething.

"You made that abundantly clear," Lily said coldly.

In the next instant, Petunia found herself back in her own bed, Vernon's comforting warmth snoring beside her. She glanced around frantically.

"Lily?" she whispered, jerking her head to and fro. Certainly she wouldn't have just left – without a word of goodbye? She said she'd come to help. Help with what? Petunia hadn't seen any need to help her son. He was a wonderful little boy who'd grown into a wonderful young man.

The niggling image of her son holding Harry by the hair, accusing him of breaking a toy that Dudley himself had broken fleetingly crossed her mind before Petunia firmly squashed it. Dudley was a good boy. All boys had their scuffles. It didn't mean anything. Lily was just upset by what a rotten egg her precious little boy had turned out to be. There was nothing Petunia could do about that. He was rotten from the start.

Shaking her head with relief that it was over, she fluffed her pillow before settling down. She'd have to remember never to make that particular casserole for dinner again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing; it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter Three**

**The Ghost of Christmas Present**

Petunia quickly drifted into slumber and, although she couldn't be certain of the time, she knew it hadn't been long before a jarring noise again disturbed her. This time, the creaking of the stairs caused her eyes to fly open wide, instantly awake though she remained motionless, her hand clenched around her pillow.

She lay stiffly in bed, breathing shallowly and straining her ears in the stillness. Her room appeared unnaturally dark and ominous. There it was again! The stairs kept creaking slowly, steadily. Every time Petunia began to relax and think she'd imagined it, they'd creak again. Someone was walking with methodical purpose up the stairs.

She sat up in bed as she imagined this intruder reaching Dudley's empty bedroom, but the rhythmic steps passed her son's door and continued with slow, steady progress toward her own. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain the intruder could hear it.

Petunia panted, trying to recall her dream. Lily had visited her. She'd uttered some nonsense about Petunia receiving three visitors before the night was out. Could Petunia still be asleep? Was this still part of the same, horridly vivid dream?

The bedroom door flung open wide and a sudden breeze filled the room, fluttering the curtains. Petunia scrunched her eyes against the chill, desperately trying to focus on the empty doorway.

The wind stilled yet no one entered.

"Who's there?" Petunia hissed, unable to stand the suspense a moment longer. "Lily, is that you?"

The outline of a man – tall, thin, his face hidden in the shadows – filled the doorway, causing Petunia to gasp and clutch at Vernon's arm. He grunted in his sleep but did not awaken.

"Hello, Petunia," the oily voice said, caressing the words as he strode into the room. His long black cape fluttered behind him, giving Petunia the distinct impression of an angry bat. She didn't know who he was, but there was something oddly familiar about his hooked nose and greasy black hair.

His eyes frightened her. They were deep black, menacing, and she felt as if she could fall right into them and be trapped within her nightmares for a thousand years.

"Who are you?" she whispered, unable to draw her eyes away from his penetrating stare.

"Don't you remember me, Tuney?" he asked, sneering the long-forgotten nickname. She hadn't been called 'Tuney' since Lily's death.

Lily! This man was connected with Lily somehow, she was certain of it.

"You're trespassing," she said weakly. "I want you out of my house."

The man laughed, a cold, hard, bitter sound. "And what are you going to do about it? Shout the fact that I've been spying on you yet again?"

His words triggered a memory – a memory of a thin, sallow-skinned boy who used to follow her and Lily around as children. He'd always been lurking in corners, watching them, corrupting Lily's mind with his evil promises. He'd been the harbinger, marking the end of Petunia's relationship with her sister forever.

"You," she whispered, struggling for breath. She recognized him now. His skin was still sallow, and his clothes still hung off him despite his height.

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Severus Snape, the Ghost of Christmas Present," he said, his lips twisting as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth.

"What do you want?" Petunia asked, frightened. It wasn't just the dreaded magic or the strangeness of the whole situation. This man was dangerous. She could feel it.

"I believe your sister informed you of why we are here. Our purpose is to help you save your son," he said coldly.

"There's nothing wrong with my son," Petunia snapped. "This is all _her_ doing. She's up to something. I'd wager it's more about her son than mine. It's always about her son when you people interfere with my life – with the lives of my family. What is your connection to him? Why do you want to help him?"

The man visibly trembled with rage, and he spat his words without ever moving his lips. "The boy is nothing to me – but he is everything to her. If I can reclaim some small measure of her approval by helping her son, so be it. It suits my needs in the end."

"So it is about her son!" Petunia crowed triumphantly.

"It is about both your sons," he replied.

Petunia's eyes narrowed calculatingly. "You're doing this for her. You fancy her. I knew it! I always knew it."

Snape menacingly took a step forward, causing Petunia to shrink back against the headboard. "It matters little whether I ever fancied her or not. What's done is done and cannot be changed. There is still a chance for the future, however. If you want to save your own son, I suggest you come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Petunia spat, trembling.

"So be it. I can at least tell Lily that I tried," he said before turning away and moving back toward the open door.

She stared blankly at his retreating back. "You're just going to leave?" Petunia asked, stunned.

Snape stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'm certainly not going to waste my time arguing with you. If you don't care what happens to your son, what concern is it of mine?"

"Don't you dare presume to know me or my son. I'd do anything for him!" Petunia said, anger bubbling in her chest. How dare this man insinuate she didn't care about Dudley?

"And yet you'd prefer to stay safe in the comfort of your own bed rather than come with me to offer him aid. Your sister stood against evil-incarnate and died for her child," Snape said softly.

"Don't compare me to my sister! I would never have left my Dudders alone," Petunia screeched.

"Perhaps she didn't feel she was leaving him alone. Perhaps she'd expected her family would care for him as she'd have done," Snape replied silkily.

Petunia curled her hand back and aimed a stinging slap at the jeering face. Before her hand connected with his pale skin, however, her world once again shifted and she was awash in blinding lights and color, whirling around her along with the anger pumping in her veins.

***

"Where are we?" Petunia demanded the instant the world stopped spinning. She roughly pulled her hand away from Snape's and stepped toward the wall, wanting to put as much space as possible between her and the cold man.

"I believe the name of the school is Smeltings," Snape replied, his lip curling. He pulled on what looked like a pair of black leather gloves, staring with disdain at the walls surrounding him.

Once Petunia got her bearings, she realized he was right. She recognized the dormitory at Smeltings. She'd always hated that abstract painting that hung in the lower common room. Sitting on a small sofa beneath the horrid painting was her Dudley, his hands clasped tightly around those of a brunette girl with pretty, wide blue eyes set in a rather plain face.

"Dudley," Petunia said uncertainly, taking a step toward her son.

"He can't hear you," Snape informed her coldly. "We're merely spectators to the teenage melodrama."

"Who is that girl?" Petunia wailed, watching her Diddy gently swipe a tear away from the girl's cheek. She'd never seen her son act so gently with anyone, and it stirred both alarm and curiosity within her soul.

Snape didn't answer but remained perfectly still, staring with distaste at the scene before them. Huffing with exasperation, Petunia moved closer in order to hear. She sank down on a chair opposite the young couple, watching Dudley stroke the girl's hands with his finger. Christmas lights twinkled on a tree next to the sofa where they sat, illuminating their faces in reds and greens.

Petunia felt as if she was intruding on a very private moment, but she couldn't draw her eyes away. Dudley was normally so exuberant. It shocked her to the core to see him this way. She knew he'd changed during their time in hiding. He'd spent a lot of time with that Hestia Jones woman, despite Petunia's complaints. She wondered if Hestia knew anything about this girl. The thought stabbed at Petunia's heart.

"Don't cry, Dee," Dudley said. "It'll only be a fortnight, and we'll be back here again. We can celebrate our own Christmas. We'll still have a present to open after it's over."

"I wanted my parents to meet you," the girl said, sniffling. "I know they'd like you."

Dudley raised his eyes to the ceiling, looking positively miserable. "I'd like to meet them, too."

"Then why won't you come?" the brunette girl wailed.

"I haven't seen my parents since September, Deidre. I know you haven't seen yours either," he said, raising his hands defensively when she opened her mouth to protest. "My folks had a hard time last year. We had a lot going on with…with my cousin. They just want to see me. I'm the only one they have, you know?"

"But I'm not trying to keep you away from them. I'd like to meet your family, too. I want to see where you grew up," Deidre said, sniffling again.

"And you will," Dudley said fervently, again wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You will meet them, I promise – just not yet. I'll tell them all about you this trip, then you can meet them over the summer holidays."

"Do you think they'll like me?" Deidre asked, raising her watery eyes uncertainly.

Dudley averted his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Everyone likes you, Dee. My dad will come around first – he'll love your dad's car. My mum…she sometimes has a hard time realizing I'm grown up. I'm her only son."

"So you've said – but if she loves you so much, she must want you to be happy, right?" Deidre asked.

"I know she wants me to be happy," Dudley said, but his tone was unconvincing.

"How can he not know I want the best for him?" Petunia whispered, affronted.

"He knows you want what _you_ believe is best for him," Snape replied, causing Petunia to jump. She hadn't even noticed when he'd moved to tower above her. "He's just no longer convinced that what you feel is best is actually right."

"I want what's best for him," Petunia replied indignantly.

"And yet you decided this girl was wrong for him without ever meeting her," Snape replied.

Petunia sniffed, turning her head. She supposed Deidre looked respectable, and she appeared to care for Dudley. Then again, Dudley was easy to care about.

"He also appears to care for her," Snape said, interrupting her thoughts. He wrinkled his nose as if the whole conversation was distasteful.

"Will you write to me?" Deidre asked, her blue eyes pleading.

Dudley shuffled his feet. "I'll try. You know I'm not good at letter writing. I'll call you though – every night."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'll miss you, Dee," Dudley said, gently pulling on a strand of her hair.

"I'll miss you, too," Deidre said, snuggling inside his arms.

"I think it's time for us to go," Snape said.

Petunia wanted to argue. She wanted to hear more. She was fascinated by this conversation. She wanted to know more about this girl with whom her son was obviously so taken. How could this have happened without her notice?

Before she had time to protest, the scene had shifted again and Petunia found herself inside a ramshackle house with mismatched furniture. A long, wooden table stood in the kitchen laden with enough food to feed a small army. Petunia was startled to realize the pots on the stove were stirring themselves and knives flew fast and furious on the counter without aid, slicing vegetables and piling them into a container.

It was obviously a house that belonged to one of _those_ people, and Petunia instantly wanted to leave. This had nothing to do with her, and she didn't want to be involved. She wanted to go back and see Dudley. She irritably folded her arms across her chest.

"Why are we here?" Petunia snapped, glancing at Snape from the corner of her eye. She was startled to realize his expression matched the level of annoyance that Petunia felt.

"If I'm not mistaken, we're in the home of the Weasley family. Potter is never far from one of them," Snape replied, sneering.

"Mu-um, where are the extra fairy lights? They're not in the attic," a young man yelled, bounding into the kitchen and jerking his head irritably. He was very tall with a long nose, a shock of red hair, and appeared to be around Dudley's age. Petunia knew she'd seen him several times at the train station.

"I told you, Ron, they're in the attic underneath the box with the green bow on top. Now hurry up and get it. I want those lights up straightaway," a dumpy little woman said, striding into the kitchen wagging her finger at the tall young man.

Petunia had seen this woman before, too, and knew she had an indecent number of red-haired children. There was a set of twins who'd once tried to kill her Dudders by strangling him with his own tongue. Petunia despised this family.

"I don't see what the big rush is," Ron replied, grumbling as he turned back up the stairs.

"I want the decorations finished when your sister gets home. You've only got a few minutes, so don't lollygag," the woman said, bustling about her kitchen and moving pots and pans around with her wand.

"How come Harry got to go and pick her up while I had to stay behind and do all this work?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Because I imagine they wanted a few minutes to share a smooch without you breathing down their necks," the woman snapped. "Now go get the fairy lights."

Ron's face puckered. "Eww – did you have to go and put that image in my head? Now I'll never be able to eat my supper."

"As if that would ever happen," the woman muttered, continuing to stir her pot.

Moments later, the kitchen door swung open and Petunia's nephew entered arm-in-arm with an attractive red-haired girl. She beamed up at him adoringly, and his eyes sparkled with that same light Petunia had always remembered in her sister.

Funny, even though she'd always found his eyes so disturbingly similar, she'd never remembered seeing them shine in quite the same way as a child.

"We're here," the girl shouted, grinning at Harry mischievously.

"Ginny! Harry! You're home already," the pudgy woman bellowed, embracing both of them in a massive hug. "And we're not quite ready yet."

"The savior arrives," Snape muttered dryly under his breath.

Petunia glanced at him, reading his total distaste for the situation and his unmasked disdain for her nephew. She began to feel the first affinity for the man since his arrival.

The room suddenly filled with red-haired people, all beaming and greeting the new arrivals. They hugged the girl and slapped her nephew on the back as if he were one of their own.

"Welcome home, squirt," a tall man with a disgusting ponytail and earring said, hugging the girl.

"It's good to be home," she replied, sharing a secretive smile with Harry.

"It's good that we can all be together," the man with the ponytail said.

"George," Ginny cried moving to hug another one of her brothers. "It's good to see you."

It took a moment before Petunia realized she was speaking with one of those horrid twins. He looked different, however – much more somber than Petunia remembered. She didn't notice where the other twin was and kept looking warily around the room.

"I'm glad you're home," George replied. "Mind, I really don't want to see anything you and Harry get up to – holiday or not."

Ginny smiled, her eyes bright and seeking out Harry across the room.

Her nephew's teeth flashed as his grin widened. He pulled her trunk into the back room and deposited it at the foot of the stairs. Petunia was struck by how much he'd grown since she'd last seen him, and she didn't mean physically. He carried himself with the air of a man accustomed to being in charge. He had a quiet confidence that she'd never remembered seeing.

"Arrogant, isn't he?" Snape sneered. "Just like his father."

Although she'd vainly tried to block her memories of him through the years, Petunia did remember Harry's father – and arrogant was the perfect way to describe him. She wasn't certain if that fit her nephew, however. She'd never seen him as arrogant. Rude, sloppy and ungrateful, but never arrogant.

Petunia's grin widened. She felt delighted, as if she'd just stumbled upon a long-held secret. Snape was jealous of Lily's husband! Of course he would be, if he'd fancied her sister.

"I don't remember James as being arrogant," she said, blatantly lying to wind him up. "He certainly worshipped my sister."

Snape scowled, his face darkening dangerously. "She never saw through him."

"Perhaps it was you who never saw things clearly," Petunia replied, giddy with finally having the upper hand.

"Your nephew appears very happy," Snape said, his tone clipped. "Much happier than the way we left _your_ son."

Petunia's spirits plummeted again. Her nephew did appear much happier than her son had – something Petunia had fought against happening throughout their entire lives. How could it have turned out this way? Where had she gone wrong?

"All right, Harry?" a muscular young man with more freckles than should be allowed called over to him.

"Never better," Harry replied, swiping at some fairy lights that his tall friend dumped on his head as he returned from the attic.

"Got the lights, Mum," he called, shoving Harry with his hip. "Budge over, you lovesick sod."

Harry grinned but didn't deny it. His eyes sought out the girl standing across the room. She was deep in conversation with her parents but she appeared to sense his gaze. She turned her head toward him, her eyes sparkling as she mouthed, "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Ginny," he whispered, alight with happiness.

"All right. I think we're ready to eat," the mother said.

"About time. I'm starving," Harry's tall friend said, forgetting his former loss of appetite and sinking into a chair.

The warm kitchen disappeared and Petunia was suddenly back in her own, cold bed. She pulled the bedcovers around her, shivering, a deep sense of emptiness and loss filling her belly. Slowly, she sunk back into her pillows, muffling her face to hide the tears that refused to be suppressed.

**A/N:** Hello everybody! Thanks for the warm welcome. I had a blast writing this short story, so I hope it shows. Several of you expressed hope that Snape would be included. As most of you know, he's not one of my favorites, so I hope you feel I did him justice here. Christmas Future coming up next…


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter Four**

**The Ghost of Christmas Future**

Unlike after the visit from Lily's ghost, when Severus Snape's ghost had departed, Petunia fell into a deep and troubled sleep. She didn't rouse easily upon hearing the third disturbance that night. In fact, she was unaware of another presence in her bedroom until she felt a wet kiss land sloppily on her cheek. Her eyes flew open as she gasped, pulling away from the figure of her long-dead brother-in-law, who was leaning over her, grinning ridiculously.

"Good evening, Pet. Have you missed me?" he asked with a mocking bow.

Petunia squawked in outrage, causing Vernon to grumble in his sleep. He rolled over on his side, pulling most of the covers with him.

"Big bloke really has gone to pot, hasn't he?" James asked conversationally.

"Get out of my house," Petunia screeched, not caring if she woke Vernon. In fact, she wished he would awaken. She'd enjoy watching her husband beat this pompous cad to a pulp. She'd never liked James Potter. His hair was as tousled as ever, reminding her of her nephew. She'd adamantly fought that futile battle yet had never been able to control the boy's unruly hair.

"Can't do that, Pet. Certainly you know how this works by now. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Future, and I'm about to show you what's to come. It's going to rock your world." James smiled widely when he said it, but his voice took on an ominously hard edge.

"Don't call me that," Petunia said, still infuriated by the old nickname that only he had ever dared call her. "I still don't want you in my house, and I'm not interested in anything _you_ have to show me."

"You always could be rather thick about things that you didn't want to understand. Too bad you never outgrew it," James said cheerfully, flopping onto the settee and swinging his long legs up in the air to hang over the back. Petunia thought he looked remarkably "solid" for a ghost.

"Let's review, shall we?" James asked, smiling that infuriating smile while he lay upside down. "Lily visited you first and took you on a little jaunt into the past. Honestly, that was the hard part for us. It gets easier from there – for Lily and me, anyway. I don't think you're going to enjoy what's coming."

He put his finger to his mouth as if he were contemplating. Petunia folded her arms and glared at him.

"Next, old Snivellus came to call. I can't believe the old grease bag agreed to do it, actually," James said, absently staring out the window at something only he could see.

"He did it because he fancies Lily," Petunia said, unable to hold back. She wanted to hurt James. "He knew her before you did, you know. They were friends. I think she must have fancied him, too."

Petunia knew she'd hit her mark when James' handsome face pinched and the ever-present grin slipped away.

"Everyone loved Lily," James said, his expression wistful before his eyes narrowed and he turned back to face Petunia. "Of course, that was always half your problem, wasn't it, Pet? You could never quite manage her charm."

Petunia wanted to slap him. It was true, and he knew it. Everyone always focused on Lily while Petunia was left in the shadows.

James smirked before continuing his speech as if he'd never been interrupted. "Snivellus showed you the present – how miserable Dudley and Deidre are by being forced apart for the holidays. He also showed you how much better Harry's doing now that he's with people who truly care about him.

"So I get to show you the future – what's going to happen if everything continues on the present track. You'd best prepare yourself for what you're about to see."

Petunia had the impression James was enjoying this entirely too much. He swung around and pulled himself up off the settee, staring at her expectantly.

Petunia loathed him.

"Lily claimed she was here to help. She wants Dudley to have a better future. How do you know whatever I do for my son doesn't alternately affect your son?" she asked, pleased to see his face pale.

"Harry's own choices have affected his future. Whether or not there is any kind of relationship between him and his cousin is at stake. Harry won't mind if there's none – he's got plenty of people in his life now. The issue is with Dudley," James replied tightly.

"Perhaps," Petunia said, shrugging.

James moved next to the bed in two long, angry strides. The air in the room nearly crackled with intensity.

"Don't push me, woman," he said, his voice reverberating against the walls. Gone was all trace of that arrogant, carefree youth she remembered. James Potter was angry, and for the first time, Petunia was afraid of him.

"That was my son you mistreated all those years. _My son!_ And if I had my way I'd be giving you much more than a fraction of the misery you gave him. But your sister asked me not to do it. Your sister – the wonderful woman I married – the one who claims she had a close relationship with you once upon a time, although I've never seen it. The sister whose child you spent a lifetime abusing. Remember her? She asked me to help save your miserable wretch of a son. I'd just as soon leave him to what he's in for – but Lily wants to help," James said, his hazel eyes flashing.

For one of the rare times in her life, Petunia was speechless.

James didn't pause to take a breath before continuing to rage. "She wants to be the aunt _you_ should have been. I'd do anything for Lily, so here I am. Despite all your wretched attempts to see it turn out otherwise, Harry's going to be just fine. You'd best be thankful for that, or nothing on Heaven or Earth could stop me from going after you. Since he is all right, I can do this for Lily. I can do this for Harry and Dudley, too," James said, swallowing heavily.

Petunia trembled, uncertain what to do. She did want to see Dudley again, but she didn't want to stay with James.

James took a deep breath, and his demeanor was once again relaxed. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Petunia stood up with her chin in the air and tightened the belt around her dressing gown. There was nothing for it. If she wanted to see Dudley, she'd have to put up with James.

"I'm ready," she said stiffly.

James gallantly offered her his arm. "Then let's be off!"

Petunia scowled, forcing herself to take his arm. Yet again, her bedroom exploded into a whirlwind of color and sound. She was spinning once more, only this time, it felt as if she were falling. It went on so long that she began to fear he'd tricked her. He wasn't taking her to see Dudley at all. Something about this didn't feel right at all.

***

At long last, the spinning stopped, and Petunia's vision cleared. She clutched at her head, which felt as if she were still spinning. James stood casually against a stark white wall, watching her with an amused expression.

"It takes longer to travel so far into the future," he said, shrugging. She knew he was enjoying himself.

Petunia ignored him and her eyes began scanning the room. She didn't recognize anything. The room was sterile and impersonal, furnished with typical institutional furnishings. Although an attempt to be more cheerful was made with several lacy coverlets, the furniture was old and worn. One lonely, straggly Christmas tree stood perched on a display table adorned with several chipped and mismatched shiny ornaments.

Petunia suspected they were in some sort of health care facility. Her opinion was confirmed as she moved toward the open doorway and stared down a long corridor lined with many open doors. A pair of nurses stood nearby speaking in hushed tones outside one of the doorways

"I tried to convince her to come down and sing some carols, but she wanted no part of it," the younger of the two nurses said. Her dark hair was pulled back with a red ribbon.

"She never joins in on the activities," the other nurse replied, sounding bored.

"I know, but she seems so lonely," the younger one said sadly.

"Don't show her that pity, Nancy. She'll bite your head off for it. She's got a nasty temper, that one. She shut herself off after her husband died. He was a grumpy one, too, but they apparently could stand each other."

"And no one ever visits her?" Nurse Nancy asked.

"Not since I've been here, and I've been here too long for my own good," the older nurse replied, taking Nancy's arm and leading her further down the corridor.

Filled with dread, Petunia carefully crossed the corridor and stood outside the door where the two nurses had been conversing. She could hear a telly reciting the evening news. A bed was just visible from the doorway. Try as she might, Petunia couldn't force her feet to go a step further.

"Go on then," James said. "You know your curiosity is killing you. Just take a peek."

Pressing her lips firmly together, Petunia held her chin high and strode into the room. James nearly skipped along behind her. Petunia stopped short when she caught a glimpse of the woman sitting in the room. James nearly ploughed into her from behind.

"Oi. Give a bloke some warning when you're going to stop," he said cheerfully.

Petunia ignored him, too horrorstruck by the vision before her to care about his irritating manner or the fact it shouldn't bother a ghost to bump into something. The woman in the chair watched the telly with a deadened expression on her long face. Her white hair was pulled back tightly, and her pale blue eyes looked like chips of ice.

When the woman suddenly turned toward her, Petunia gasped, wondering if she could be seen. The woman looked right through her, however. She craned her long neck to be certain the nurses had moved away before turning back to the telly.

"You look bloody awful," James said mildly, watching the elderly version of Petunia.

"Why am I here?" she asked, looking around the sterile room. Not a single personal item was in sight. The nightstand was void of any Christmas cards, but merely held a clock, a brush, and a lamp.

James sighed dramatically. "We've been through this already. Lily visited first and showed you the past-"

"Not me," Petunia snapped, glaring, "her."

"But that is you, Petunia. Certainly you can work this out," James replied, speaking to her as if she were a very slow-witted child.

Petunia's lip trembled. She wanted to shake her head in denial, but her eyes refused to look away. "This is the future? This is my future? Vernon's gone – but where's Dudley? Why isn't he with me at Christmas?" she wailed.

James' eyes narrowed. "Vernon finally succumbed to the wretched diet he'd consumed for years while it clogged his arteries."

Petunia shut her eyes tightly. "And Dudley?"

"We've seen your future, Petunia. Now let's take a look at Dudley's," James replied. The fact he didn't laugh or joke concerned her more than anything.

The scene around them dissolved and within a moment, they were standing in a rundown building. The floor was dirty and the walls were chipped and stained. It smelled of stale liquor, and Petunia wanted to hold her nose. She cringed, pulling her head back.

"What are you on about, bringing me here?" she snapped.

"You said you wanted to see Dudley," James replied, stepping on a crushed beer can as he led Petunia toward one of the flats. A number four hung on the door, tilted because one of the supporting screws was missing.

"Your Dudders is nothing if not consistent," James said, twirling the number around on its remaining screw. The tinny sound of cheap metal echoed down the hallway.

"Why is Dudley here?" Petunia asked, dreading the answer.

"He lives here," James replied with a bright smile.

Petunia glanced around at the filth and disrepair. "Why?"

"Dudley doesn't really like to work much, and the money he does make usually goes toward more tobacco and alcohol. Dudley doesn't care about much else these days," James replied, shrugging.

Petunia stared at him in horror. Surely he was having her on.

As if knowing she doubted his word, James swung open the flat's door. "See for yourself," he said.

Petunia strode forward, certain this was some sort of sick joke. It was certainly the kind of stunt the James Potter she knew would pull. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her son, horrified, all thoughts of James forgotten.

Dudley lay face down on the couch wearing nothing but a pair of dull grey pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. All the muscle he'd spent years developing had turned to fat, and the couch sagged beneath his weight. His head was twisted to the side and covered with several days' growth of beard. Empty bottles littered the floor around him, one still dangling in his loose fingers.

Several dirty dishes had been discarded on the floor along with crumpled, empty bags of crisps and sweet wrappers. The messy flat was as barren as Petunia's room in the nursing home had been. Not a single photograph or personal trinket was in sight.

Petunia was unable to squelch a cry of despair.

"Hurts, doesn't it? There is nothing – NOTHING – more painful than watching your child suffer when you can't do a damn thing about it," James whispered fiercely in her ear, his eyes blazing.

"Why is he doing this?" she wailed. "What happened to him?"

James turned to stare at her incredulously. "You happened, Petunia. Every time he met someone, they were never quite good enough for you, and you sabotaged relationship after relationship. He eventually got tired of trying. He had a real chance with that first girl – Deidre. She could have straightened him out, given him a chance at a real future."

Petunia clasped her hands over her heart. "I never meant-"

"Things don't always turn out the way you planned, Pet," James said, cutting across her.

"I always did what was best for him!" Petunia cried, a familiar outrage rising within her like an old friend.

"You gave him everything and never made him work for anything on his own. Once he was a man, he didn't know how. You ruined all his healthy friendships, and this is what he was left with," James said, waving his arms expansively.

"No," Petunia said, shaking her head.

"Come on, there's one more thing I want to show you."

Petunia's stomach was so twisted in knots she barely registered the spinning as the image of Dudley's horrid flat faded only to be replaced by the sitting room of a handsome home.

Petunia glanced around dully, feeling drained and empty inside. The room was painted in a soft yellow hue with two reddish leather couches on either side of an enormous Christmas tree. The lights sparkled, illuminating several ornaments obviously made by children.

A woman with long red hair sat in a rocking chair by the fire, nursing a small infant wrapped in an abundance of hand-knitted pink blankets.

"She's finally gone to sleep," the woman said looking up, her deep brown eyes sparkling.

"Won't last long. I think I hear the boys coming," a rich, deep male voice answered.

Petunia turned to the source, and her eyes widened. Her nephew stood in the open foyer, glancing up the stairs. He appeared older and not as sickly-thin as he'd been as a youth. He'd filled out nicely. Petunia could see the definition in his arms beneath the loose shirt he wore. His eyes were still covered by a pair of glasses, although the green showed through as bright as ever.

Petunia's eyes wandered around the warm room, filled with Christmas poinsettias, the walls covered with pictures of children and many red-haired people. Petunia turned back toward the woman in the rocking chair and realized it was the same girl she'd seen on her previous visit.

"He's done well for himself, my boy," James said gleefully. "He works as an Auror for our Ministry, and Ginny writes a sports column for our paper."

"Are you showing me this to rub it in?" Petunia asked, fuming. How could things have turned out so well for this boy and so horrible for her own Dudley? What had gone wrong?

"I won't deny that I'm thrilled he came through it all – with no help from you. You made your own choices, Petunia. Don't expect pity from me now," James said coldly. "Remember, after you and Vernon are gone, Harry is the only living relative Dudley will have left. Their roles have gone complete circle, haven't they? If you don't encourage a relationship between them now, it's Dudley who will be left alone."

"Daddy! Daddy!" a small voice yelled, thundering down the stairs and bursting into the room. "Alby broke my new Christmas train."

A small boy with dark red hair ran into the room carrying a toy train with the wheels hanging off the track. Petunia estimated he was around three or four, with wide brown eyes brimming with tears that he was trying to fight.

"Didn't," another voice said from the doorway. A smaller boy, perhaps two, with tousled hair and bright green eyes cautiously peered into the room, his little arms defiantly crossed around his chest although his lower lip trembled.

"What happened, Albus?" Harry asked gently.

"He broke it!" the older boy repeated.

"I'm talking to your brother right now, James," Harry said firmly.

"He named his firstborn after me," James the ghost said, preening.

Petunia swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Stepped on twain. Hurt my foot," Albus said, sticking his fingers in his mouth.

"Did you mean to step on the train, Albus?" Harry asked, bending down and examining the boy's small foot.

Albus shook his head emphatically.

Harry turned back to James. "I don't think your brother meant to break it, James. Sometimes when things get left on the floor, they get stepped on by accident."

"But it's new, and I wanted this one," James said, staring at his broken toy.

"Well, we'll have to fix that then, won't we?" Harry asked, removing his wand from his back pocket.

"Mad-Eye Moody still grumbles that he keeps it there," James mumbled, but Petunia didn't know what he was talking about. She couldn't draw her eyes away, fascinated by the scene in front of her.

Harry waved his wand, and the train's wheels realigned good as new.

"Thanks, Daddy!" James shouted, grabbing the train and flinging his arms around his father.

"What do you say, Albus?" Harry asked the small boy gently, opening his other arm so the boy could snuggle in.

"Sawwy, James," Albus answered, wiping his nose on Harry's shirt.

"S'alright," James said, mesmerized by his repaired toy. "Want to play?"

"O-tay," Albus said happily, following his brother back up the stairs.

Harry turned back to his wife who gently smiled at him.

"Another catastrophe averted," he said wryly, cocking one eyebrow.

"Good job, Daddy," she said, pulling herself out of the chair. "You take Lily for a bit. I'm going to check on dinner. Our guests should be arriving soon."

"Lily," Petunia whispered, her eyes drawn to the tiny baby in Ginny's arms. Little wisps of red curls peeked out from the bonnet upon her head.

Standing next to her, James nodded. "Your sister preened for days over that."

The lump in Petunia's throat was strangling her, and she bit her lip to control her emotions.

Harry picked up the tiny bundle and cradled her in his arms, gently rocking the sleeping child. He lightly kissed her forehead and whispered, "Happy Christmas, little one."

Petunia turned away, sniffling.

"I think you've finally seen enough," James said, grasping Petunia's arm. The quiet room faded from sight, hiding the happy family from her view.

A/N: Thanks for all your feedback on this little story! There's still one chapter to go to wrap things up. If you enjoy my stories, I'd recommend you trying out a site called PotterFicWeekly. They've done podcasts discussing each of my longer stories, and the forum there is fun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter Five**

**Setting the Stage for the Epilogue**

Petunia bit her bottom lip as she furiously scrubbed a miniscule spot on her kitchen counter that refused to come out. She could feel a bead of sweat dripping down her back, and her hair felt limp upon her forehead from the exertion. Everything had to be perfect – and she was going to ensure that it was.

She'd allowed herself a lie-in that morning, an event so rare that Vernon thought she must be ill. He'd surreptitiously offered her tea and toast so many times that she'd ended up shouting at him.

Of course, that only confirmed in his mind that she was ill, and she left him to his assumption. It served him right for slumbering peacefully through all the disturbances the previous evening. Petunia viciously swiped at the stubborn stain.

How could he have slept through all that?

She still wasn't certain what to make of it. Could it just have been some horrible nightmare brought on by mixing too many spices into her casserole, or had her dead sister and her cohorts really visited in the dead of the night? Somehow, she knew in her gut that it was the latter, and it made her shiver.

Dudley's future was at stake, and she had to do something about it. If it meant sharing him with this girl…this _Deidre_…so be it. She could do that.

Petunia wanted a grandbaby named after her, too. Lily wasn't going to outshine her again.

So, with determination in her heart, Petunia had dragged herself out of bed and sent Vernon off alone to pick up Dudley at school. Petunia had begun preparing the sumptuous feast that was now overflowing her kitchen. She'd gone to the market and bought several poinsettias in various colors. There really weren't that many left to choose from at this late date, but she had to admit that they did look festive.

Her mouth turned down as she remembered the lovely family home her nephew would one day have. That was the life Dudley deserved.

_Remember, after you and Vernon are gone, Harry is the only living relative Dudley will have left. Their roles have gone complete circle, haven't they? If you don't encourage a relationship between them now, it's Dudley who will be left alone._

Her ghostly brother-in-law's smug words rang in her head, causing her to chop the vegetables faster, her breathing labored. How could it have come to this? She and Vernon had never wanted a second child. They'd given Dudley all the love they had to give, and after her nephew had been dumped on their doorstep, Petunia hadn't felt she had the energy to handle any more. She'd never considered the idea it would mean that Dudley would be alone later in life.

Of course, there was still his cousin…

Perhaps…just perhaps, her Diddy would be better off having that boy in his life after all. She wasn't certain how it came to this, but she in her grand scheme of how things were supposed to be, she'd missed a crucial detail.

Petunia sniffed heavily, the smell of the onions was getting to her more than usual today. Her throat closed as she continued chopping. While she'd been at the market, she'd purchased an abundance of fresh vegetables to add to their meal. Since her goal was to improve Dudley's future, she might as well try to prolong her and Vernon's lives as long as possible, too.

_Your nephew appears very happy. Much happier than the way we left your son._

Severus Snape, vile as he was, was right. Harry would end up much better off than her Dudders. At least, he would if Petunia did nothing to change it. She stiffened her shoulders, knowing what she had to do. Vernon wouldn't understand at first, but she could always maneuver around him. That had never been very hard to do.

_I'm here to do something you never managed – I'm here to help my sister's son._

Lily hadn't just been trying to help Dudley – her own son would also benefit. Petunia could do that, too. If it helped Dudley in the long run – particularly since it appeared it would help him even more – Petunia could smother her pride. It wouldn't be easy, but her distaste for her nephew's world couldn't overshadow her desire to see Dudley thrive.

"Petunia, we're home!" Vernon called as soon as the front door opened. He sounded tentative, uncertain of both her mood and her health.

"I'm in the kitchen," she called back, wiping her hands on her apron and hurrying to greet them.

Dudley stood next to his father, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket and scuffing his foot on the floor. He had deep shadows beneath his down-turned eyes.

"Diddy!" she shouted, unable to contain herself. She was just so happy to see him healthy and whole, without a bottle in his hand. Flinging her arms around him, she squeezed, never wanting to let go.

"Hi, Mum," he said, shifting uncomfortably in her overly long embrace.

"Oh, I'm so happy to see you. This is going to be a wonderful Christmas. I've made all your favorites for dinner," Petunia gushed.

Vernon blinked, staring at her incredulously. He obviously hadn't expected her not only to be in good health, but in good spirits, too.

"Thanks, Mum. It'll be great," Dudley said dully.

Petunia bit back a sharp retort and forced a smile. "Go on and put your trunk up in your room. I'll meet you in the kitchen. Vernon, could you cut the roast, dear?"

"What? Oh, yes…of course," Vernon said, still watching her warily as he hurried into the kitchen.

Petunia followed him, laying out all her best dishes and placing a heaping pile on Dudley's plate. She situated bowls of carrots, green beans and parsnips in a circle around Vernon's plate.

Dudley came back to the kitchen, taking his place at the table without a word.

"How was the trip back, darling?" Petunia asked cheerfully.

"Fine," Dudley mumbled, stuffing his face with a large piece of roast.

"Lots of traffic, but we managed to make good time, anyway. Didn't we, sport?" Vernon asked, piling his own plate high.

Petunia reached over and added some of the vegetables to his plate.

"What's with all the rabbit food?" Vernon asked, eating what she'd given him anyway.

Petunia shrugged airily. "No reason we can't add something healthy to our meals. I bet they serve vegetables at Smeltings, don't they, Diddy?"

Dudley shrugged as if he hadn't really noticed. "A bit."

"So, what are your plans while you're home?" Petunia asked in an overly bright voice. "I suppose you'll want to see Piers and Malcolm and all your little friends."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Dudley said, glancing at the telephone.

Petunia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to do. "I was thinking…it is a rather long holiday, isn't it?"

"Fortnight," Dudley said, shoveling more food into his mouth.

"A fortnight," Petunia repeated, unnecessarily refolding her napkin on her lap. "So…if you'd really like to spend some of the time with your friend from school…"

Dudley's head shot up, his eyes widening. A piece of green bean fell from the corner of his lip as his mouth hung open.

"I would," he said breathlessly. "D'you mean it, Mum?"

"What's this?" Vernon asked, looking between the two.

"Well, it's settled then," Petunia said, trying to ignore the constriction in her heart. "In fact, I think I'd like to meet your friend, too. Why don't you invite her here for Boxing Day? You can spend the weekend with us, then go on and visit with her family."

Petunia thought she'd got through that very well and silently patted herself on the back.

Dudley was thunderstruck. "Here?" he repeated stupidly. You want to meet Deidre? Here?"

"You want to bring a young lady home?" Vernon asked, his chest swelling. "She's from a good family, I hope."

"Of course, here. This is where we live, isn't it? I'll prepare the guest room for her. Marge hasn't visited in ages," Petunia said, biting her lip at that slip.

Vernon's face darkened. "Not since she ended up bobbing all over the ceiling," he said, grimacing.

"She really wasn't being very nice to Harry, though," Dudley said. "She never was."

"And why should she be?" Vernon demanded, his face now an alarming shade of puce.

Remembering his arteries, Petunia shoved a glass of water at him. "Not now, Vernon. We're talking about Dudley's friend coming to call. You go on and turn on the telly. I'll clean up in here," she said, nearly shoving him out the door.

Dudley still sat, rooted to the spot.

"Why don't I go call Dee then…you know…to invite her and all," he said, staring at Petunia as if she'd grown a third head.

"Splendid," Petunia said, smiling widely. She took another deep breath. There was just one more thing she had to do. "Oh, Dudley…"

He stopped at the door, his shoulders stiffening. He slowly turned back to face her, his expression wary. "Yeah?"

"Have you spoken to your cousin at all?" she asked, her tone clipped. She nearly dropped the stack of dishes she was holding, but she managed to get the words out.

"Er…no. Not since before, you know, we went into hiding and all," he replied.

"It's just that…well, it's Christmas, and sometimes people get in touch with those they've lost contact with over the year. I have an address where you can reach him. Somehow, the mail does get to him. I used it when he was at that school," Petunia said, using extreme effort to control the sneer that was fighting to get out. She could do this. She had to do this.

Dudley looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "You…you want me to write to Harry?"

Petunia bit her lip. Was he purposely making this more difficult? "Well, I just thought you might like to send a card asking him how he's been. If you don't that's fine," she said, turning back to clean up the dishes.

"No! I do," Dudley said firmly. "I'd like the address."

Petunia, her back still to him, shut her eyes tightly. "Go on and call Deidre then. I'll get it for you."

"Okay," Dudley said, sounding as if Christmas had come early. "Thanks, Mum."

Petunia returned to the table and sank back into her chair, pouring herself the glass of sherry she'd been longing for. Raising it in the air she whispered, "I've done my part, Lily. It's in your hands now."

A/N: As you can see, it's a Potterverse Christmas Carol, so things aren't exact – just based upon the Dicken's classic. I can't see Petunia as ever being totally redeemed. JKR made a comment about Harry and Dudley and their families' getting together at Christmastime, and all of the kids hating each other. I wanted to explore how that might have happened. I just can't forgive Petunia for her treatment of Harry, and I don't think she'd do anything to help just him. If it's something for both he AND Dudley, however, well…

There are several people I'd like to thank for helping me get back into the swing of things on this one. My prebeta team – Jim, George and Ryan. You three were amazing, and each brought out our own unique points that added to the story. I loved working with each of you. And, of course, there's my Beta-extraordinaire – Sherilyn. Despite RL heaps of responsibilities, she managed to not only get this done, but insert her wonderful little insights along the way. I always enjoy working with her, and she always makes my stories so much more readable than I could have ever done alone. Thanks all! Merry Christmas!


End file.
